


July, 1934

by laisserais



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rule 63, Steve is always a girl, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7487082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laisserais/pseuds/laisserais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after Steve Rogers turns 16, she's up on the roof with Bucky, drinking gin. She's always wanted to know what making time with a girl feels like. She gets Bucky to tell her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	July, 1934

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatotherperv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv/gifts).



> 1\. in this universe, Steve was afab. Since it's 1934, they don't have the vocabulary to express gender identity and sexuality issues.  
> 2\. Steve thinks of herself as 'Steve' but everyone else calls her 'Stevie.'   
> 3\. Everyone uses 'she/her/hers' to address Steve, including Steve herself.  
> 4\. They're both underage in this fic.
> 
> * * *
> 
> This was written for thatotherperv, who prompted me with this:
>
>> _maybe girl!Steve is bi and is curious about sex with girls? maybe they're drunk and the conversation turns to sex (as these things do). maybe they're hot for each other and the conversation is an avenue for testing the waters_

* * *

**July, 1934**

"Ah, come on, Stevie, you don't wanna know that." Bucky's shoulder bumped against Steve's as he shifted against the towel they've been using to muffle the blistering heat of the roof. Overhead Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's bed linens flap in the wind, providing intermittent shade and a semblance of a cool breeze.

The thing of it is, Steve does want to know. She squints against the sun as it filters through sheets gone shiny with wear. She wants to know a lot of things, but in particular right now she wants to know what it's like to make time with a girl. 

Bucky's always bragging about it, all the girls he's seen, about how how Mabel O'Leary let him slip her the tongue; Alice Mayburn had let him feel her chest up--over the sweater, and since everyone knows Alice Mayburn is fast this doesn't seem like such a feat to Steve--and maybe sometime soon they'll go all the way, if only her nosy old aunt would go to Wednesday night mass like the rest of the Mayburns.

Anyway, if Bucky's half the Romeo he makes himself out to be, he's still a damn sight more experienced than Steve, who's only claim on the deep and ancient mysteries of wooing involve punching Johnny Riley in the mouth after he'd tried to lay one on her behind the school during the ice cream social last May.

And that ain't even what she wants to know. She wants to know what a girl feels like to kiss. She's imagined it before, plenty of times. Dolores Moretti with the shiny brown curls looks like she'd be soft. And delicate, but not in the way Steve is, all bony and sickly, no, Dolores is small and soft like a bird, she'd probably shake in Steve's hands like a bird, too. 

When she starts thinking those sorts of things, usually her guts tie up in knots before too long, and even though between the two of them Steve and Bucky have downed enough gin to drown a rat, sure enough: imagining Dolores Moretti's plush pink lips moving against hers has her stomach rolling like it's on the sea. But the gin goes a fair way to convincing her to ignore it. Goes a fair way to giving her the courage to talk about it, too, and so she rolls her head to the side and says, "Go on, Buck. Sure I do. Tell me about Alice Mayburn."

Bucky sighs. Shakes his head and takes a swig. The sheets are casting his face in shadow. "Not sure what you wanna know. Not too decent to go kissing and telling."

Laughing, Steve takes the bottle from him. "When has that ever stopped you. Come on, ain't like I'm gonna tell anyone. Hell, you could make something up and I'd never know the difference, now would I?"

"Well, all right. How about this: how about you ask me questions, and I'll see how I feel about answering them."

Steve nods, figuring that's fair. "Ok. Uh." She slicks her hair out of her eyes, on the spot now and nervous about it. "What does it feel like, kissing a girl?"

Bucky looks her askance, eyebrow arching. "You asking me to kiss you, Stevie? 'Cuz there's better ways to go about it."

Flushing hard, Steve shakes her head. "Come on, Buck. You ain't a girl. I'm asking about something very specific here and I'm beginning to think you're just stalling." It isn't that she's never thought of Bucky that way. She has, she'd have to be blind not to notice how handsome he is. No, not handsome so much as...pretty. With eyelashes as long as any girl's and a wicked smile that promises the sort of fun that could get a girl into trouble. But he's Bucky. The guy who sleeps on her floor Friday nights and who Steve's seen belch the alphabet. He ain't exactly a prize. 

Besides, he might be half feral in manners, but he turns heads all over the neighborhood. Let's just say that if he can get to second base with someone who looks like Alice Mayburn, he ain't looking at someone like Steve. Steve's never been asked to dance once in her life, and outside of the peculiar taste of Johnny Riley, there's never yet been a man interested in Stevie Rogers. 

And so far as Steve is concerned, that's just fine. She turned sixteen yesterday, same age her ma was when she got married, but things were different in the old country and Ma seems to have made her peace with the idea that the only boy who was going to darken her doorstep was Bucky Barnes, and he certainly ain't looking to go courting. 

Bucky laughs and hands her the bottle. "You calling me chicken, Stephanie Rogers?"

"If the beak fits. And knock off that 'Stephanie' stuff." The gin makes her feel loose and good. Warm, deep down, in the places even the blistering summer sun can't reach. 

"You know you're the only one who falls for that. _Steph_."

The gin gets knocked over in the subsequent tussle, but it's ok, because Steve wins.

"I give! I give!" Bucky's smile is as radiant as the sun, and Steve slides off his chest, back onto the hot asphalt roof. She's starting to bake. If she's not careful, the sunburn she'll catch will turn her into a lobster. 

"Spill, Barnes."

"Remind me what you want to know."

"I bet they're soft," she says. "And probably warm, smelling like flowers, huh?"

"Some of them, yeah." Bucky shrugs. "Alice smells like lilacs and powder. It's stronger at her neck, like a secret." He starts to bounce a heel against the ground. "And uh...she was. She was soft. Her skin was like silk under my hands. It's a surprise, every time, how soft her face is. Like since I started shaving I guess I forgot that not everyone is as rough as me." Bucky grins. "The first kiss is always a surprise. You never know how firm it's gonna be, how wet. What she's gonna like, what'll get her really going. Some girls start right off with the tongue, some girls get shy, like they know they shouldn't like it," he tilts his head at Steve. "But they do."

Steve kicks him in the ankle. "Awfully confident in your skills, there, Buck."

"No complaints yet."

"Probably just being nice."

Bucky squawks and flails an arm out until it connects, inadvertently catching Steve on the chin.

"Hey, you jerk!"

"Oh, sorry," he says, getting up and leaning over Steve, who's testing her lip with a careful finger. Feels like she bit it. "Come on, let me take a look at it, come here."

"Leave it, I'm fine. I'm fine," she bats Bucky's clumsy fingers away. "You big mook."

Bucky stops poking at her but he's still hovering, and he starts to laugh. "That's what you get for doubting my skills."

"You talk big enough," she says. "Guess there's gotta be some truth in it, no matter how small."

"Appreciate your faith in me," Bucky says, voice gone low. "But I'm not afraid to back up my claims." His thumb brushes against the cut on her lip and Steve stops breathing.

And when he leans down, Steve meets him half way. The salty sting of Bucky's lips against hers shocks Steve into a gasp that has Bucky's mouth following hers. He's right: his skin is prickly. Rough and warm from the sun. As he starts to move away, Steve finds herself holding him there, fingers tangling in his hair. She pulls him off balance and he huffs a laugh as he catches himself on his palms. Steve doesn't let go. It isn't how she imagined it would be, even in those private thoughts that had occasionally inflamed her in equal proportion to the shame she'd felt, imagining Bucky spread out, smiling, willing. It isn't like that at all, but it's still wonderful. The first tentative touch of her tongue to his looses a noise from Bucky that sends a thrill down to her toes; thus encouraged, she leans up further. Bucky sits up on his heels and obediently tips over onto his back when Steve guides him.

That's much better. Steve props her elbows on either side of his head and turns, just so, to catch his mouth again. 

"Steve," Bucky breathes. His hands come to rest on her waist.

"Yeah," she says.

"Can I-- is this ok…"

Steve isn't sure what he's talking about, but so far the answer is definitely yes. Rather than wasting time talking, she slings one leg between his, knee nudging his apart. She catches his lower lip between her teeth and Bucky moans, hands seizing her waist as if she had the intention of pulling away. 

She starts to get playful, curling her tongue against his as she smiles at Bucky's reaction. He's definitely not shy, she'll give him that. It's nice to see how clearly he's affected. When she tries kissing his neck, Bucky practically levitates, and that's when Steve discovers a whole new part of this kissing business. Bucky's thigh fits tightly between hers and when she stretches to bite the skin behind his ear she accidentally shoves against it. Sparks bloom up inside her and she does it again, grinding down, momentarily blind from how good it feels, like every inch of skin has woken up and _needs_ to be touched. 

Bucky catches on quick, anchoring his feet and pushing up to meet her, hands slipping down from her waist to cup her ass and drag it towards him. 

"Bucky," she says, more breath than sound. 

"Yeah, doll." 

"Tell me the rest."

Sucking air through his teeth, Bucky's head drops back. "What? Come on, Stevie, you don't wanna hear all that."

"You telling me what I want?"

"Heaven forbid." Bucky's fingers dig in and release. He sighs. "Look, there ain't much more to tell, honest. I copped a feel off of Alice, and…" he trails off, turning his head away. 

And all at once, Steve realizes that Bucky's _shy_. His face is turning red, and she laughs. Just a little, not trying to be mean, but it gets her the stinkeye anyway. 

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just you. You're embarrassed, aren't you?"

Shrugging, Bucky attempts to sit up, but Steve shifts her weight to keep him where he is, hands pushing his shoulders down. "Let me up."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why--"

Steve squeezes her thighs against his hips and leans heavy on her palms. She feels bold when she scrapes her teeth against his neck and whispers, "I'll bet Alice felt nice, didn't she? Soft and warm. Did you get underneath her shirt, Buck? Did she let you feel her underthings, damp and clinging to her skin? Did your fingers make her shiver? Did she moan when you touched her?"

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the mouth on you. Come here." Bucky's fingers twist in her hair and she goes with it, his hot mouth stealing her breath as he hitches his knee again, tight up against her, and she gets the idea, starts to rub off on him. The sun is hot on her back, and she's sweating, her skin sticking and then sliding against Bucky's in all the places they're uncovered. She can feel his cock, hard and trapped between them. He's tangled up around her, and as her heart starts to race, her breath comes short. She pants against his lips as she shifts her weight, determined to make this fair. 

When Steve gets her hand underneath the waistband of his trousers, Bucky makes a broken kind of noise and squeezes her so tight she can't move. 

"What's the matter, don't you wanna," she asks, heart fluttering. 

"I do, course I do. It's just. You never...I thought you didn't."

"Spit it out," she says, irritated at having to stop what she's doing.

 

"You don't like men, do you, Stevie? I mean, not like that?"

Steve sighs, slides back so her weight is all on Bucky's hips and she can see his face. 

"Would I be here like this if I didn't want to be?"

"No," Bucky says with a smirk.

"Damn right. Truth is, I'm not sure. I know that I like this, what we're doing. Ain't that enough?"

"Yeah, long as you're sure."

"I'm sure. Now lay back down."

And Bucky does. Steve doesn't waste anymore time, she gets his trousers open and her hand around his dick. Bucky's eyes roll back and his head hits the ground. She sits up, rocking against him as she strokes him. It's the first dick she's seen up close and so she looks her fill. It's definitely not like any of the ones she's seen in museums, or health textbooks, or even in the dirty graffiti scrawled in the more unsavory back alleys of the neighborhood. 

No, Bucky's cock is beautiful. It's flushed pink, the skin pulling away from the tip with her hand, then back up again. It's soft skin over hardness; peculiar and unlike anything she can think to compare it to. What's even better is the way he reacts to her. She watches his face as she tries various maneuvers. When she grips him tight and strokes roughly, he jolts, hands scrabbling at the asphalt, head tilted back and eyes scrunched up. When she loosens her grasp and goes slow and gentle, his eyes open and he catches her watching him.

"You like that, Stevie," he says, eyes hooded and smirk growing into a real smile. "You like seeing what you do to me?"

"Yeah," she breathes, and realizes that she's stopped rocking against him, too caught up in watching him. "Give me your hand," she says. 

In this heat, her ma had nothing to say against her wearing shorts, especially not just up to the roof. She makes quick work of the fastenings, then takes Bucky's hand and guides it inside, underneath her underwear, to where she's wet. She guides his fingers, and can feel how slick and swollen she's gotten. For a split second she's alarmed, never having had that sort of reaction, but when he touches her, she knows that it's just the first time she's been this worked up. She bites her lip as his index finger traces the folds, slips deeper inside. Swallows a sigh at the warm, rough feeling of his thick fingers. So different from hers. Better, maybe. God, it's a little embarrassing how wet she's getting, she can feel it spilling over their hands. Even with a nurse for a mother and all of the sexual hygiene pamphlets she was forced to read, this is new. This feeling of being stroked at the core, warm and blooming, like gravity is heavier than usual. She wants to get closer, to feel more of him. She rocks into his palm as she strokes him again. She rocks in time with her hand on him, picking up speed, going rougher, thrilling when she shifts against the callouses on his hand, knowing how soft and slick she must feel to him. 

She leans back, grinding down on his fingers as they explore, get more confident. One slips inside of her and it feels...it feels different. She's not sure, but she says, "Another. Give me two."

"Yeah," Bucky breathes. "Ok." 

She looks down, opening her eyes to see the poleaxed expression on his face. It makes her smile. Knowing that they're doing this together, each other's firsts. When a second finger tentatively slides in, Steve can't keep back the noise she makes. It's still weird, but it's a good feeling, sort of like an unexpected fullness. Uncomfortable but sexy. The kind of feeling she gets when she touches herself at night. 

She keeps watching Bucky as she rocks on his fingers, watches how his breath speeds up, his eyes heavy lidded, mouth open in a way that would look stupid any other time. She lets go of his cock to lick her palm, and his eyebrows quirk until he realizes what she's doing. Then he groans, fingers picking up speed and his thumb starts to move around until it presses against her clitoris. It's Steve's turn to lose control. She tries her best to keep stroking him, to focus on bringing him with her, but she's speeding, speeding downhill and she's going to crash. Her free hand grips his forearm to keep him where she wants him, and she's outright fucking herself with his hand now.

"Stevie, fuck. Stevie. God." Bucky's watching her, but she doesn't even care anymore, chasing the edge of feeling until she overtakes it, feels it swell up within her and when it hits, she shouts, contracting down on his fingers, and around his hips, spine rigid, everything taut for one blissful second.

When she releases him, he goes slack, not moving a muscle. She grins at him and starts jacking him off again. It only takes a second. He comes watching her face.

When they're done, she wipes her hands off on his underwear.

"Real nice," he says. "Thanks so much."

"Hey, you made the mess, you clean it up."

Bucky slowly withdraws his hand from her and brings his fingers up to his lips. When he sucks them into his mouth, Steve feels a fluttering echo of the orgasm she just had. "Oh," she says.

"Yeah," he says, and sighs. They both sit there for a moment. The sun is abruptly much too hot, and Steve gets up, her muscles kinked up from too much of a workout. 

She does up her shorts and then offers Bucky a hand. He takes it and hauls himself up off the towel. 

"Come on, there's still some lemonade from yesterday and Ma's at work. It's too hot up here."

"Yeah, ok, Stevie." Bucky is folding the towel and straightening his clothes. He's not looking at her, but Steve can sense tension in how he's holding himself. 

"You alright?" she asks, shifting her weight onto one foot.

"M'fine. You?"

He won't meet her eyes. 

"Are you ashamed?"

That gets him to look up. "What? Of what?"

Shrugging, Steve says, "Of me."

"Course not. God, you're amazing, why would I be ashamed of you?"

"I dunno, something's got you in a bunch."

"Oh." Bucky turns, gazes out at the view of Brooklyn. "It ain't you, promise."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing."

"Lies will make your nose grow." Steve's heart still hasn't calmed down and it's starting to race faster. She's going to have to sit down soon. "Tell me."

"I'm just afraid, is all. You're my best friend, and I don't want to lose that. But if that was just an experiment, I'm afraid…" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't want to scare you off."

Steve rocks back on her heels, considering. "I ain't scared of you, Bucky Barnes."

When he meets her eyes, puzzled, she grins. "And I ain't scared of us. I don't know if I like girls, probably I do, but I know that I also like you, a whole lot. So why don't you be a gentleman and help me down off of this roof."

Bucky laughs. "A gentleman, huh? You telling me you won't sock me one if I try and help you down?"

It's Steve's turn to laugh. Bucky's her best friend. They know each other so well. They're going to be ok. It'll all be ok. 

"I make no promises," she says.

"Well, lead the way, boss." He motions toward the fire escape and as she passes him, she stands up on her tiptoes and kisses him, a quick, chaste thing. He lights up, grins. "Happy birthday, Stevie," he says.

Steve grins back, grabs the towel out of his hands and says, "Thanks, Buck. It's been a pretty good one."


End file.
